He Stepped Out from the Letters

Before she died, Emma begged me: My new pen pal has depression. Please keep writing to him for me, save him.

After hesitating for a long time, I began to mimic her handwriting, keeping up the correspondence for three years.

That was until Gavin, fully recovered, tracked me down and showed up at my door.

As I stood there wondering if I should confess that I was the one behind the letters, floating text suddenly drifted across my field of vision like a live chat overlay on a screen:

[Does this side character seriously think she's the female lead? She's just a ghostwriter.]

[Once she takes credit, the male lead marries her. But when he finds out she's a fake, he takes his anger out on her, divorces her, and ruins her life.]

I stared at the man standing in front of me. Except for that very first letter, every single word sent over the last three years had come from my hand.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. The person you're looking for is no longer here."

01

I recognized Gavin the second I saw him.

He looked much more mature than the photo he had slipped into one of his letters three years ago, but his face was unmistakable.

Gavin panicked instantly. "No longer here? What do you mean she's no longer here?"

In his desperation, his hands flew forward and gripped my shoulders tightly.

"Ouch, let go of me," I said, swatting his hands away. "Who even are you? Let's talk like civilized people, keep your hands to yourself."

Realizing he had let his emotions get the better of him, he let go of me immediately. "I'm sorry. What did you mean when you said she's no longer here?"

"Aren't you looking for Emma? She's dead."

In truth, I still had one unmailed letter sitting inside my apartment. Over the past year, I could tell from his replies that he had recovered from his depression and no longer needed "Emma" to keep him anchored. Because of that, I had started spacing out my replies, hoping he would naturally adapt to her gradual departure.

"Dead?" Gavin looked completely shell-shocked. "How is that possible? She messaged me just last month."

I gave him a wary look. "Who are you, anyway? Why are you asking about her?"

"We were pen pals. Did she ever mention that to you?"

"Sorry, we weren't that close. But she really is dead, so you can stop looking. If you don't believe me, ask her other friends."

Emma had been a solitary, eccentric person who kept to herself. If she had any friends at all, I was the only one.

"How did she die? When?"

"Aren't you her pen pal? Didn't you know she was sick? She passed away earlier this month. You're just too late."

02

The floating comments in my vision flared up with skepticism:

[Did she forget who is standing in front of her? Why is she lying about Emma's death? And why is she pretending she doesn't know him?]

[Wait, this is wrong. Isn't she supposed to claim she's the one who wrote the letters? She should say she only used Emma's name because she was shy, accept his proposal, and marry him.]

[If she acts like this, how is the actual female lead supposed to show up? In the original plot, the male lead finds out the side character is a fake, forces a divorce, gets drunk, and has a wild night with the female lead. That's how their true love story is supposed to start...]

Reading the floating comments made me even more glad that I was playing dumb. Over the last three years, because I wasn't great at inventing a fake life for Emma, I had simply written about my own daily routine. I was living a perfectly fine life; I had no desire to marry some rich guy only to be tortured and ruined.

Gavin blocked my path as I tried to leave. "Can you take me to her grave?"

"I don't even know who you are," I said, refusing him flatly. "First of all, it's not safe. Second, I have to go to work."

He pulled out a credit card and a stack of letters. "There's fifteen thousand dollars on this card. I want to hire you to take me to her. These are Emma's letters. You must recognize her handwriting."

I recognized it, of course; I had practiced mimicking Emma's handwriting until it was flawless. But I pushed them away.

"Sorry, I don't know how you found this place, but Emma and I were just roommates. I can't tell her handwriting apart. I need money, but I'm not taking sketchy cash from a stranger. For all I know, you're trying to kidnap me and sell my organs. Let me through, or I'm losing my punctuality bonus."

I took a step down the stairs.

"You're Fiona, right?" he said. "You weren't just her roommate. You were her only friend."

03

"Emma talked about you in her letters. She said you were wonderful to her, and she was incredibly grateful for you."

Oh, great.

I had written so many letters over the years, sometimes after a glass of wine or two, that I had completely forgotten what I'd said. I must have let my vanity get the best of me and thrown in a few compliments about myself.

[Look at her panic. She definitely remembers what the male lead looks like, so why is she playing dumb? Does she hate a comfortable life?]

[He's incredibly wealthy! With how much she knows about him, she could easily extract millions. Why is she throwing this opportunity away?]

[Maybe she's playing hard to get.]

[Maybe she thinks confessing too early makes her look desperate.]

"Fiona, you don't need to be so defensive," Gavin said softly. "If you're uncomfortable, you can invite some friends or family to join us. I just want to visit her grave."

Emma was an orphan, and I had handled her funeral and burial. She once told me: "I'm totally alone in this world. When I'm gone, just put my ashes in a jar and dump them in the ocean."

I had teased her in return: "No way, I don't want to end up eating a fish that ate you. I'll buy you a cheap plot, don't worry."

Even a cheap plot was a huge expense for me, so I had spent quite a bit of my savings on a small headstone that simply read: Emma.

I let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll request some time off and take you."

When we arrived at the cemetery, Gavin stood silently before the small headstone for a long time. It must have been incredibly hard for him to accept. He had fought his way out of a dark place, expecting to finally meet his savior, only to find a cold piece of stone.

Eventually, he walked back over to me. "Fiona, is there anything you need? I want to repay you for taking such good care of Emma."

I thought about it, then pointed at the headstone. "Could you reimburse me for the grave? I'm really tight on money. Emma wanted me to scatter her ashes in the ocean, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Still, the plot was a massive expense for me."

[Haha, of course the side character is a gold-digger. Even now, she's only thinking about money.]

[She only marries Gavin for his wealth anyway.]

[If she weren't so greedy, how else would the pure and innocent female lead stand out?]

"Of course," Gavin replied instantly. "I'll pay you back ten times that amount."

I smiled, thrilled by the sudden windfall.

Just then, the cemetery keeper walked by and recognized me. "Hey there! Visiting your friend again? I've never seen anyone visit a grave so often. You're here every single month!"

Crap. Busted.

04

[Haha, she just said Emma died this month, but she's been coming here every month. Let's see how she lies her way out of this one.]

[Her face is completely white. The male lead definitely noticed.]

"Every month?" Gavin looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I thought you said she died recently?"

I forced myself to stay calm, though my hands were sweating. I let out a heavy sigh. "I was talking about my mother. I miss her, so I come here every month to talk to her. Also, in the months before Emma passed, I came to look at plots for her. I didn't want her to have nowhere to go when the time came, but no matter how many months I checked, the price never dropped."

Gavin looked only half-convinced. "Did Emma leave any final words for me?"

I wanted nothing more than to sever any connection with this man. I shook my head. "She lost her ability to speak toward the end. It was my first time dealing with something like that, so I was too frantic taking care of her to ask."

"Did she pass away in your apartment?"

I nodded. It was indeed my apartment; she had stayed with me, and I couldn't just throw her out when she got sick.

"Thank you for taking care of her."

"Don't mention it. We were friends."

Suddenly, he asked, "Where is your mother's grave? I'd like to leave some flowers."

Oh god. My mother was alive and well, living in another state.

[The side character grew up without a mother in this town, so she's totally making things up now.]

[The male lead absolutely detests being lied to. His punishments are usually brutal.]

I declined quickly. "No, thank you, Mr. Gavin. I promised my mother I would only ever bring my future husband to see her. I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

He accepted the excuse surprisingly easily. We walked back to his car.

When we reached my apartment building, I said, "You can just drop me off here, Mr. Gavin."

Gavin remained quiet the whole ride. Once we pulled up, I reached for the door handle, but the doors remained locked.

"Fiona, I have a request," he said.

I paused. What now?

"May I see the room Emma lived in?"

"It's my apartment, so that's not really appropriate. Besides, I've already cleared out her things."

"I'll buy the apartment from you, then."

"No way," I snapped, raising my voice. "This is the only thing my father left me. Absolutely not."

The lock clicked open. I scrambled out.

"Fiona, please," he said, getting out of the car. "Emma was incredibly important to me. She saved my life. I just want to see where she spent her time."

And then, he dropped to his knees.

[Oh my god, when did the male lead become like this? Kneeling for love? He's a multi-millionaire heir!]

[I love this devoted husband energy! This is pure, unadulterated love.]

[Look at his broad shoulders and narrow waist... how is she resisting this? Even if she's a terrible side character, she gets to enjoy this view.]

I couldn't stand a scene in public, so I pulled him up. "Just for a minute. Then you leave."

He got up remarkably fast.

My apartment had no trace of Emma, especially since she had passed away three years ago. The decor was soft and pastel pink, which was the polar opposite of Emma's actual style; she had loved deep blue.

"This is the guest room where she stayed. Take a quick look. I threw everything of hers away after she died."

He walked in, his long legs taking him straight toward the desk. I realized too late that I had made a terrible mistake.

His fingers picked up an envelope.

"I thought you said you cleared everything out?"

The envelope was addressed to Gavin, signed by Emma.

And the letter inside was a simple, normal update about daily life. It sounded nothing like a dying person.